Volume I
Chapter IV: Burdens
Oh dear, how hard it does seem to take up our packs and go on,” sighed Meg, the morning after the partly; for now the holidays were over, the week of merry-making did not fit her for going on easily with the task she never liked.
“I wish it was Christmas or New-Year all the time; wouldn’t it be fun?” answered Jo, yawning dismally.
“We shouldn’t enjoy ourselves half so much as we do now. But it does seem so nice to have little suppers and bouquets, and go to parties, and drive home in a carriage, and read and rest, and not grub. It’s like other people, you know, and I always envy girls who do such things; I’m so fond of luxury,” said Meg, trying to decide which of two shabby gowns was the least shabby.
“Well, we can’t have it, so don’t let’s grumble, but shoulder our bundles and trudge along as cheerfully as Marmee does. I’m sure Aunt March is a regular Old Man of the Sea to me, but I suppose when I’ve learned<to carry her without complaining, she will tumble off, or get so light that I shan’t mind her.”
This idea tickled Jo’s fancy, and put her in good spirits; but Meg didn’t brighten, for her burden, consisting of four spoilt children, seemed heavier than ever. She hadn’t heart enough even to make herself pretty, as usual, by putting on a blue neck-ribbon, and dressing her hair in the most becoming way.
It’s a shame!”
So Meg went down, wearing an injured look, and wasn’t at all agreeable at breakfast-time. Every one seemed rather out of sorts, and inclined to croak. Beth had a headache, and lay on the sofa trying to comfort herself with the cat and three kittens; Amy was fretting because her lessons were not learned, and she couldn’t find her rubbers; Jo would whistle, and make a great racket getting ready; Mrs. March was very busy trying to finish a letter, which must go at once; and Hannah had the grumps, for being up late didn’t suit her.
“There never was such a cross family!” cried Jo, losing her temper when she had upset an inkstand, broken both boot-lacings, and sat down upon her hat.
“You’re the crossest person in it!” returned Amy, washing out the sum, that was all wrong, with the fears that had fallen on her slate.
“Beth, if you don’t keep these horrid cats down cellar I’ll have them drowned,” exclaimed Meg, angrily, as she tried to get rid of the kitten, who had swarmed up her back, and stuck like a burr just out of reach.
“Girls! girls! do be quiet one minute. I must get this off by the early mail, and you drive me distracted with your worry,” cried Mrs. March, crossing out the third spoilt sentence in her letter.
There was a momentary lull, broken by Hannah, who bounced in, laid two hot turn-overs on the table, and bounced out again. These turn-overs were an institution; and the girls called them “muffs,” for they had no others, and. found the hot pies very comforting to their hands on cold mornings. Hannah never forgot to make them, no matter how busy or grumpy she might be, for the walk was long and